Erised
by SeverusLuciusAbraxasMalfoy
Summary: What does he see, when he looks in the mirror?


I cannot say how many times I have taken these very stairs, and walked through that dimly lit corridor, invisible to most people.

I cannot say how many times I have stood facing this very wall, thinking about what lies within.

I cannot count the numerous times my hand has hesitated before firmly pushing the wood of the door, giving me access to the one room that I truly dread and long to return to.

But I can tell you that my breath catches every single time the drop cloth whispers under my fingers and falls to the floor. I can tell you that I dare not open my eyes for the first few moments, afraid that what I see might have changed.

It never has.

This wretched heart sometimes wishes that the image will fade and change, and free me from this madness. This terrible, heart-wrenching and such delightful madness.

What could have been, but what never will.

Lesser men have lost their minds from this practice; and I agree, it is quite close to insane, but I am not a lesser man.

However hard I find that to accept.

I have been warned, of course, and I'd like to think that I heed those words, but here, by myself, I cannot lie.

A smile and a laugh, silent though they are, drives me so close to wanting eternal peace from this cursed existence.

I cannot say how many times my hand has reached out to that black leather bound, nameless book on the top shelf, ghosting over the spine, wanting to read it's contents, wanting to brew those potions; potions that would free me from the burdens I bear.

I am no coward, and the book remains closed and hidden.

Tonight, my chest constricts as I see the familiar image, my heart's desire.

Red hair, impossibly green eyes, and a face inclined to mischief. I cannot stop the wistful smile on my own.

And tonight, I shock myself, in real and in glass, when a wee head pokes from between the happy couple.

The image has finally changed tonight, and it is a revelation, to see that I want this. My smile slips, but I know in my heart that I cannot deny this.

The mirror never lies.

So this is my heart's desire? It seems unlikely, but the couple, nay, the family I see reflects the truth. Would she have named him the same if he was mine?

The truth is unexpected but not difficult. He looks nothing like his current father, but I know it's him; the emerald of his eyes not hidden by the long albeit tame and silky black hair. It's the work of the mirror to show me what I already know, and what I truly desire.

I know that I accept what he has been trying to tell me for the past year.

He is not his father.

I know that if it means anything, he has more in common with me, than he ever did with _that _man.

My face resumes it's characteristic sneer by habit, so unlike him, in the glass.

Fingers brush the cool surface, hoping, not for the first time, that the surface would let me through, so I could live the charmed life.

It doesn't work that way.

I have lingered here long enough. This night, is not cold enough to dispel the unexpected warmth in my chest.

A whisper and the cloth moves to reluctantly cover the mirror, for my will is not to be weak yet. There is much for me to complete, before I can allow myself the luxury of blissful ignorance.

I turn and leave; my footsteps a little heavier for want, and more that a little confused at the workings of my mind and heart, but that is food for thought, and it gives me something to frown over and look suspiciously at the boy, making the trio and many others quite paranoid, and simultaneously cause the Slytherins to snicker, imagining their Head of House plotting to get the Boy expelled.

If only they knew.

I suspect I shall not see the mirror again quite soon. Events have been steadily leading to the point where my departure will be inevitable, and necessary for survival. Afterwards, I do not know what is to come.

Hesitation is overpowered by the understanding of necessity; the grand plan, the bigger picture. My feet glide over stone floors, a new resolve. If they cannot be mine, at least, he is hers, and that is a matter of mixed emotions. Agony and longing.

If I cannot protect him as mine, I will protect him as hers; as long as I can.

I believe for this night, I can drown this knowledge in amber liquid.


End file.
